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There was something clean about all of this,
too clean,
unnaturally sanitary,
and I didn't like it,
because I knew what you were doing,
you were hoping that I would learn to forget,
forgetting is not taught,
it cannot be etched into your conscience,
especially where it is not wanted,
and it is not wanted here,
that much I can tell you with my conscience,
my clear conscience,
my clean conscience

I did not like you selectively deciding what was right and what was wrong,
and sometimes,
sometimes when you told me those decisions were subjective,
I gave into you,
because it was easier to shut up,
than to put up with the likes of you,

I wish you would stop telling me what to think about all of this,
because I really did believe that less was more,
but I understood empathy,
and I think I understood fear,
better than you,
and it was with that,
that I understood pocketing the goods